


Finding Happiness

by Fantazima



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Action/Adventure, Azriel Needs a Hug (ACoTaR), Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantazima/pseuds/Fantazima
Summary: Happiness.The thing that so many others in Azriel's life have found but continues to elude him. He searched for it, hoped for it desperately for years and yet, Azriel is not entirely sure he would know what it means to be truly happy. One by one, he has watched his friends and brothers find their happiness. And after everything he's endured, doesn't the world owe him at least that?He had thought once, maybe, that he could have found it in Mor. And then he met Elain, was bewitched by Elain. Only, once again, for the cold harsh hand of reality to slap him across the face. But Elain has not entirely accepted her mate yet. Could there still be chance for him?And what of the entrancing singer he keeps crossing paths with? She makes him laugh in a way that he has not done so in centuries. Maybe ever. He finds the pull of her friendship a difficult one to resist and it pushes him to discover the answer to the question that haunts him most. What does my happiness look like?
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s), Elain Archeron & Lucien Vanserra, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Nesta Archeron/Cassian
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, disclaimer. This won’t really jive with the events of all the books. I am pretty much just pulling pieces from the books that work for my storyline. Enjoy!

Fall in Velaris was magnificent.

Sunset gilded the world around Azriel in vibrant reds, blazing oranges and honeyed golds. He drew in a long breath, leaning his elbows on the railing of the bridge over the Sidra, drinking in the colors that bled from the trees into the water. The crisp, cool touch of impending winter kissed the air, dusting a chill down his wings. He tucked them in closer.

Store goers bustled around him, ebbing like a river around a stone as they gave the Shadowsinger a wide birth. Oh how the shadows whispered of their stares, caressed him with the taste of their apprehension. _They will always fear what they do not understand._

It did not matter that he had simply ventured into the city to enjoy the fall colors, to allow himself a reprieve from the inhabitants of the House of Wind. Even now, hours later, the thought of returning brought forth a weariness that settled heavy in his bones. He would have to return, but not just yet.

The hair on his neck prickled. To your right. Azriel turned his head, pressing his cheek into his shoulder. He expected to see Cassian, possibly even Rhys, having come to retrieve him after having realizing his absence. But it was not. He tried to ignore the ache that settled behind his breast bone. Had they even noticed his absence?

Instead he found a small, dark haired boy. He was staring up at him with wide green eyes, and when Azriel straightened, drawing up to his full height, his lip began to quiver.

_Mistake._

The boy drew in a watery breath and Azriel braced himself for tears. It was always like this with children. They were drawn to his curling shadows, entranced like a moth to a flame. But once they drew closer, close enough to feel the slip of the darkness against their soul, they became fearful.

The boy wailed.

Flinching, Azriel made to reach for him but hesitated as the scars on his fingertips flashed silver in the setting sun.

Someone laughed, the sound light and boisterous. “By the Mother! I swear. This is a thing he does now! Cries in the face of strangers.”

A female burst from the tide of passers-by to scoop up the child. She was laughing still, and the sound of it rattled in Azriel’s rib cage, leaving him a little breathless. She swung the boy up and his cries quieted. She spun once, lifting him up, up, and then settled him on her hip, awarding a small smile from the child.

“I keep telling his mother that, at the very least, it makes kidnappers think twice.”

Her voice was deep and smokey, a pleasant rasp against his skin, and her smile was wide and starkly white when she turned it on him. She was not fae, evidenced by the rounded tops of her ears, his eyes drawn by the small cuffs that lined the curve of her helix. She was not human, though. Of that, he was certain. He could feel something there, pressing against his shadows. Something other. Rings glittered on her fingers, some crowded with more than one band, golds and silvers bright against her dark skin. The hair that had not drawn up into the buns on either side of the crown of her head framed her face in tight black curls.

“Aloisia.”

And then she was offering him a hand. He stared at it for a moment, jewelry winking in the evening light. When was the last time someone had been so brazen. But her soft smile never faltered. She simply waited, undeterred by his hesitation. When he brought up his hand, her shoulders lifted and her smile brightened. She had not expected him to reciprocate.

He imagined how they must look, his colors of darkest black and leather contrasted by her glorious unity of vibrant blues, brilliant greens and endless purples.

“Azriel.”

“Yes, I know. The masses whisper.”

He turned his attention back to the Sindra, wavering under the bright intensity of her gaze. He could feel her eyes on him, taking in the stark angles of his features, the breadth of his shoulders, the expanse of his wings.

“Beautiful.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped back to her. Her smile had sharpened into something playful. The boy tucked his head against the female's collar bone, staring out at Azriel as he chewed his thumbnail, still unsure about the dark stranger.

“The sunset over Velaris. I always find it breathtaking,” she elaborated casually.

And yet, he could feel the warm creep of a blush on his skin and his hands slipped into his pockets in an attempt to keep them from flexing at his sides. Her gaze turned its focus on the river. And then it was his turn to take in the female before him. Her features were ordinary, bordering on plain, though they were enhanced by the perfectly painted color on her lips, the shadowing around her eyes, and the nearly metallic highlights over her cheekbones.

“It is a beautiful city.”

Her gaze slipped sideways to him, watching him from the corner of her eye. “Do you come here often for the view?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I prefer somewhere quieter.”

She nodded absently. “Understandable. The people of this city, as pleasant as they may be, can certainly be draining.”

“You are not from here.”

For a moment he worried he had overstepped, but she simply smiled at his bluntness. “I am not. But I am happy to have claimed this place as my home.”

The boy reached up to tug a curl, laughing lightly when it sprang back against her cheek.

“Daia,” she said sternly. “What have I told you about touching my hair.”

The boy leaned back to meet her eyes, pressed his hands against his mouth. “That it is not respectful?”

“Yes. Permission first. Then and only then, may you touch.”

Azriel tilted his head at the soft exchange, something inside him stirring at the smile she offered the child.

“And where are the rest of your merry men?” Aloisia asked, dark eyes flicking back to him.

“Oh,” Azriel shifted. “They are...at home.”

She nodded slowly. “I feel as though I have hardly seen one Illiryan without the other.”

“They have other engagements,” Azriel said quietly, rocking back on his heels.

“Ah,” was all she said. And yet, he felt she seemed to grasp the meaning hidden behind the vague mask of his answer

_So you are the last. Alone while your friends find happiness._

Aloisia turned, looking into the sea of fae around them. A head of metal bright, golden curls bobbed towards them and Azriel tensed. Aloisia glanced at him and he forced himself to relax as a female stepped out into view. She threw out her hands, approaching the young boy with open arms.

“Must you always steal my child?” The female laughed. “I will not have him be made privy to your seductions.”

Aloisia laughed, passing Daia as the boy reached for his mother. “I hate to break it to you, Cress. But those cheekbones alone will surpass even my debonair charm.”

Just as Azriel made to slink back away from them, Cress turned her blue green gaze on him. Her eyes traveled down the length of his body, a slim brow rising higher and higher with the more of him that she took in. Then she turned her face towards Aloisia, the expression she gave the female hidden from him. Aloisia barked a brilliant laugh, throwing her head back, a hand grasping her rib cage.

“Goodness, Cressida!” Aloisia set a hand on her friend's shoulder. “Please, leave now or your child will be witness to the strangulation of his mother.”

Cress laughed and turned back to Azriel, offering him an easy smile. “Have a good night, Shadowsinger.”

And then she and the child melted back into the flow of bodies, carrying them back towards the markets. Aloisia watched them leave, shaking her head, a ghost of smile on her lips.

“I really should go,” Aloisia said, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “Daia likes to wander. I get to be his keeper tonight while Cress tries to shop.”

“Where is his father?”

“He died,” Aloisia said, her tone cool and matter of fact. “In the war against Hybern.”

Azriel tensed, wings tucking in slightly. The city was what it had always been, vibrant and bustling and without concern, but even this place had not emerged untouched by the war. It’s effects lay hidden just beneath the surface, an illusion of untempered perfection. One only needed to turn back a few rocks to find its mark.

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Azriel said quietly.

“It was nice to meet you, Azriel.” And when he met her dark eyes, the sincerity of the statement rattled him slightly.

“It was pleasant meeting you as well.” Azriel dipped his head in farewell and then he was alone.

Her smile lingered long after she was gone.

It would be three weeks before he would see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this story! More to come soon!

“Thank you for coming Az,” Rhys clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. “I know you have been very busy lately, and while I appreciate your dedication to your job, Feyre is very excited for tonight.”

His High Lord had pulled him close, nearly resorting to shouting into his ear to be heard over the din of the club. Someone gostled them, relaying a sloppy apology. Azriel tucked his wings in as tight as he could manage in an attempt to make himself impossibly small, the muscles there burning lightly against the strain of it.

Feyre appeared at their sides, squealing as she threw her arms around Azriel’s neck. “Az! I’m so happy you could make it! I have heard nothing but wonderful things about the music here. And finally we have found a night when we are all free!”

Her cheeks were flushed, eyes dancing in the bright flashes of fae light. He offered a smile, hoping he looked at least somewhat enthused to be here. Over her shoulder he caught sight of another Illyrian. Cassian leaned in close to Nesta, nose against her ear, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke. Her eyes narrowed as though squinting might cancel out the din of the crowd around them.

Her eyes widened slightly, and a flush rushed up her neck into her cheeks. Cassian’s grin was entirely too devilish for any of those words to have been decent. Azriel sighed.

“Come!” Feyre clasped his hand and drew in deeper into the fray.

They skirted along the edge of the dance floor. A sea of bodies moving and pushing and pressing this way and that as the music swelled and dropped. No matter how tight he tucked, he felt entirely too big in the crowded space. The noise was all consuming, the conversations of the people around them overwhelming the shadows that slipped down his arms and worked around his legs.

“We have claimed a booth. Have a seat!” Feyre said as she slowed in front of a large circular booth half hidden in the corner of space.

Tucked into the booth, seated politely beside Lucien, was Elain. Lucien was leaned in slightly, saying something to her that was lost under the noise. Elain smiled lightly, nodding at his words. Lucien’s hand moved across the tabletop, slow and tentative, to settle over his mate’s fingers.

This was going to be a terrible night.

“Brother!” Cassian's voice boomed from behind him and Elain looked up.

Her eyes caught on his and her expression brightened ever so slightly. Her fingers twitched, as though she had thought to remove them from beneath Lucien’s, but his fingers tightened ever so slightly.

Cassian’s hand came down hard on his shoulder and shook him, breaking the moment of connection with Elain.

“Mother above, we had begun to wonder if those shadows had swallowed you whole! Here! A drink! The night is young and you’ve got some catching up to do!”

He pressed a glass into his hand. It was something dark and amber. Azriel hoped desperately it was strong. Gods he was tired.

“In!” Feyre exclaimed, throwing herself boisterously into the booth and knocking against Elain. Her sister blushed as she was jostled against Lucien, who steadied her with a hand against her shoulder.

Lucien offered Elain a shy smile. Azriel tipped back the glass in his hand, knocking back the entirety of its contents. He snarled as it burned a path down his throat. He was gonna need another drink.

Leaning against the wall beside the booth, Azriel surveyed the crowd, wanting desperately to look anywhere else. He caught a flash of blonde waves weaving through the labyrinth of bodies and tensed. A slim female emerged out into the walkway in front of the line of booths at the back of the space.

She reached up a hand to steady the glass on her tray, letting out a breath. Azriel blinked, recognition slipping up his spine. The female from the bridge. Cress.

As if he had spoken the name aloud, she looked up. Her brows rose slightly when she spotted him. She smiled, offered him a small wave, and turned, making her way back towards the bar. Azriel watched her disappear, his thoughts lingering on that day. On the other female he had met.

He had not thought of that encounter since it had happened weeks ago. Had forgotten the sound of her laugh. The deep, smooth allure of her voice.

The lights lowered and the dancing stilled. A male stepped out onto the stage at the far end of the room. Azriel could hear Feyre clap, eeking out a sound of excitement.

“Hello, hello!” The man called out. “What a beautiful night it is! And thank you all for choosing to spend this weeknight with us here at the Harlequin.”

Voices in the crowd rose, shouting their support. The male laughed.

“Alright, alright. We all know why you are here. Please give her a warm welcome!” The male slipped off the side of the stage. “Our lovely songbird!”

Music rose up from the band, a loud, light chorus as a female stepped up onto the stage, one hand clasping the neck of a guitar as she raised it up over her head as the crowd roared at her entrance. It was difficult to make out her features as the lights behind her flared for just a moment, rendering her as little more than silhouette, then died down as the music quieted.

“Hello my dear fae!” Her voice was unmistakable as it slipped like silk over his skin.

Her dark black curls had been brushed and teased into a great froth about her head. Rings glittered on her fingers as she settled the strap of her guitar over her shoulder.

Aloisia.

“You weeknight folk are my favorite. You’ve got work tomorrow but, hangover be damned, here you are!”

Laughs rumbled through the room and the band behind her struck up and settled into a strong beat. Immediately, the dance floor began to move.

She was good.

One song after another struck just right with the crowd. Never was there a lull of bodies on the floor. Even Azriel found himself tapping a finger against his ever present glass. Rhys had swept Feyre onto the floor several songs ago and they had yet to return. He often caught glimpses of them, smiling and flushed, each perfectly enraptured in the other.

“Come on,” Cassian beckoned. He and Nesta were the last pair of the group to give in to the allure of the music. “At least one dance!”

Nesta was drawing him away, and Cassian looked back over his shoulder at Azriel, hopeful.

“Go enjoy yourselves,” Azriel called after them, watching them be swallowed by the tide.

He looked down at his glass and sighed. Empty. Azriel pulled in his wings, bracing himself, and pushed forward towards the bar. As he drew nearer to the stage he found that he could better see Aloisia. The band's transition from one song to the next was almost imperceptible and he watched as Aloisia closed her eyes, letting the music overtake her as she waited for the proper note. Her body twisted and turned to the music and he could not stop himself from watching her move.

Light flashed off the sway of the silken mini dress she wore, the cerulean fabric perfectly vibrant against her dark skin. The neckline dipped down to the tie that drew the waist in, flattering the curve of her hips.

She entered into the song with a strong soaring note that had the crowd roaring. Azriel shivered.

“What will it be?” The tender asked as Azriel reached out a hand to steady himself on the bar.

The music dropped, the lights shuttered low as if the room had drawn in a breath, and then her eyes were on him. Every muscle in his body contracted at the sudden focus of her dark gaze.

Featherlight, a piano began to play, and for just a moment, that was the only sound in the room. And then came her voice. Soft and smooth it consumed the space, enveloping the people who had slowed to take her in. Azriel let out a breath and turned to the bartender.

The bartender had been watching Aloisia as well, but when he looked back at Azriel, his eyes gleamed with an expression He swore could have been stolen from Cassian himself.

“Whiskey. Neat.”

Azriel remained there, letting the ballad soothe his soul. He found his mind drifting to Elain, as it often did. How she had smiled when she had seen him and the thought he had seen flicker across her face. She had wanted to pull her hand from Lucien. But as he always did, the male had claimed what was his. Making sure Azriel saw it. But there was a small cowardly part of him that played Devil's advocate. If he had been Lucien, wouldn’t he have done the same?

“So.” Came a voice from behind him. “Should I be concerned that the high lord’s spymaster is stalking me?”

He let a small smile play on his lips for just a moment, but when he turned to her, his features were set in a careful mask.

“Oh, if i were truly stalking you, you’d never know it.”

She laughed, a true laugh that lifted her entire body. “And he makes jokes!”

Her laughter was bright against his dismal mood and he let himself smile. “I was drug here against my will.”

“Well,” She slid onto the stool beside his and leaned back against the bar, looking out over the dance floor. “I would be lying if I said I was disappointed to see you again.”

Azriel looked down at the glass in his hand, smiling lightly.

“I hope at least my singing doesn’t make you want to rip out your eardrums and throw them into the Sidra.”

“It was under consideration. I thought I felt a little blood after that last one.”

She laughed again, and he found the weight in his chest just a little lighter. “Ah, incessant flattery. The way to a woman’s heart.”

“I hope you aren’t here to beg free drinks off me again. You are gonna get me fired.”

Aloisia laughed, turned towards the bartender who had come to stand behind them.

“Azriel. Meet Harless. The best bartender this side of the Sidra.”

The male laughed, flipping up an empty glass. “I like to lay claim to both sides of the Sidra but Sia prefers to keep me humble.”

“I just like to ensure that fat head fits through the door.”

Without even asking for her preference, Harless mixed a drink, something fizzy and bright orange, and slid it across the bar top to her. “See. A man can never curate a large ego in her presence.”

Aloisia flashed a bright smile at him before taking a sip of her drink.

“Azriel!”

The smile that had arisen at Aloisia’s jabs at the bartender faltered. He watched Aloisia turned and take in Elain, watched as one dark brow rose in question. Bracing himself, Azriel turned.

Elaina cheeks were flushed, and she had undone the buttons at the collar of her dress, revealing a flushed collar bone. “Please! You must come dance with us!”

She surged forward and grasped Azriel’s hand, and as he always did, he became incredibly aware of the scars on his fingers. Behind her, he could see Lucien watching them. Irritation flared.

“No thank you, Elain. I'm quite content here.”

“Oh but you must! They have the most delightful music here!”

Beside him, he could hear Aloisia snicker. “I’m sorry Elain. Really. I just...I don’t really dance.”

Her lower lip jutted out in a mocking pout. “Not even for me?”

Azriel’s eyes flickered to Lucien, marking how his hands curled into fists and the released, flexing outward.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel offered, forcing sincerity into the timbre of his voice.

With one last sound of dismay, Elain spun and dashed back into the dancers, notable not in the direction of Lucien.

“Who’s that.”

He had nearly forgotten the singer’s presence beside him.

“A friend.”

“Ah.” She said, with a knowing look as she leaned back against the bar, talking another long drink from her glass.

“What?”

She shrugged, smirking. “Well, it’s often dangerous to look at friends like that.”

“Yes.” Azriel glanced back towards where Elain had disappeared. “It is.”

A moment of silence settled over them.

“Alright,” Aloisia reached out and plucked the near empty drink from his hand. “Well. If that’s how it’s gonna be, then you are gonna need a stronger drink. Harless, pour us something that flexes hard enough to scare a high lord. And make it two.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep telling myself I will set a schedule of updating once a week....and then I write more and get excited to share. Hah. So. You will get to enjoy this story at whatever random intervals I write it!

“Thank you for coming with me. Everyone else just seemed so busy.”

Elain reached out to inspect a bell pepper, turned it over in her hand and set it back down before picking up another. He had been busy too. But when Elain had come to him, round eyes lit with hope, he had been unable to deny her. 

“I hate traveling through the city alone.” She shuttered. “I just get so turned around. There are so many people, and so many beautiful things. And I feel as though I haven’t seen you in forever. That night of dancing was so long ago now.” 

Azriel followed quietly behind her as she led him into the throng of the House of Bone and Salt. The sharp smell of spices bit at his senses. Nearly over shadowed only by the voices of merchants bartering their goods.

“We are having Lucien for dinner tonight, and Feyre had mentioned his love for spicy food. I thought it might be best to prepare something he might like.” 

Azriel swallowed down the biting comment that rose to the surface. It was not Elain’s fault she had been saddled with the male. Of course she would show him nothing but kindness. 

“What are you making?” He asked instead, working to keep the bitterness from his voice.

“I’m not sure. I don’t like spicy food myself, so I’m at a little bit of a loss.”

Azriel nodded, remaining quiet. He could not find it within himself to offer a suggestion. 

“Sometimes,” Elain began quietly, then paused. She squared her shoulders, as if bracing herself for the words to follow. “Sometimes, I feel like maybe...a mistake was made. With Lucien and I. We are so different.”

Azriel’s hand paused over the curve of an apple. He dared not even to breathe. 

“It just doesn’t feel right. I mean, sometimes, yes. I feel something. But...is it what I truly feel, or is it what this fae body is programmed to feel? He’s...not what I expected. What I would have chosen for myself.”

She looked at Azriel then, and he felt his heart stuttered in his chest. She was so beautiful. Hair curling in waves around her narrow shoulders, a perfect complement of the lavender material of her dress.

“I feel like...like he doesn’t understand me. Does that make sense?”

Azriel could only nod in response, his heart still struggling back to its regular rhythm.

“Not like you do.”

A blush crept across the height of his cheekbones.  _ Dangerous waters, Shadowsinger. _ He took a breath.

“You know we will support you, whatever you choose.”

Elain nodded slowly, reaching down to pluck up a small, shriveled pepper and dropping it into her basket. Azriel almost moved to stop her, to warn her of its heat, but stopped himself. The image of Lucien’s face, beat red and spluttering, flashing across his mind. 

“Feyre feels I should give him a chance.”

Azriel could not stop the cold finger of irritation for his High Lady that slipped over his skin, hating himself for how traitorous it felt. Lucien had been one of few friends to Feyre during her time in the Spring Court. Of course she would hope him happiness. But what of Azriel? The male who had come for her in her most helpless moment? Who had scooped her from her own shadows and brought her to the night court all that time ago.

Azriel moved away from Elain then, a shadow slipping away from the sun. He could not snap at her, would remove himself from her presence before he could do so. He drifted past a few booths, his mind barely registering their contents as he retreated into himself. This had been a mistake. How had he thought he could manage this? An entire morning alone with Elain, poking at his most raw edges.

He could feel the bitterness rising up, threatening to claim him. He was a terrible male, vying for something that did not belong to him. Allowing it to force a wedge between himself and his friends. Centuries of friendship was worth more than one female. Right?  _ The same friends who now find themselves too consumed by their own mates to have time for you? _ A voice crooned from somewhere deep inside the endless dark that shadowed his every move.

His fingers settled over a slip of cerulean fabric. It rushed like water over his skin, cool to the touch, drawing him back to the surface, back into the light of the day and the bustle of the market. He let out a shaky breath as his fingers closed around it.

“It is made of the finest silks this court has to offer!” A merchant appeared before him, fingers eagerly pulling free the rest of the fabric to allow Azriel to inspect it. “So rich in color, don’t you agree?”

Azriel stared at it, at the contrast of its beauty against his scarred fingers. He felt numb.

“Would you like it?” The merchant pressed, brows raised. “It would certainly brighten your black attire!”

* * *

"My!” Elain exclaimed, leaning against the railing of the bridge and hesitantly looking down at the rushing water below. “The Sidra is certainly lively today.”

Azriel leaned against the rail, rubbing a hand over his eyes as a wave of exhaustion consumed him. “We have had a lot of rain these last few weeks. It should be turning to snow soon.”

“Ya know,” Elain said, looking out over the current. “I never learned how to swim.”

“No?”

Elain shook her head. “No. We never really had the opportunity. But, I think, if I had the chance now, I would learn.”

“I would not recommend the river.”

“Oh?” She asked, bright eyes turning toward him. He took in a slow, steadying breath.

“The undercurrents can be deadly. Even strong swimmers can get pulled under.”

Her brows drew up in surprise. “I can imagine with all the added rain water it would be ghastly.”

“Even after weeks without rain.” Azriel shifted from one foot to the other. “The current can still be wicked. It just hides beneath a deceptively calm surface.

He could feel Elain watching him, taking in the sharp set of his dark features. What did she see when she looked at him? Did she see the scars of his past. How they made themselves present in quiet moments of his life, haunting him like the shadows that clung to his soul. Did she see every ounce of self doubt that consumed him? How he could not look at her now, at her mussed hair and windburned cheeks, because he feared he could not stop himself from stealing a kiss. Just one kiss… What could it hurt?

“Are you alright?”

Azriel let out a breath and looked at Elain. The concern on her face so clearly written it made his heart ache. He rubbed the heel of his palm against his chest. 

“I’m fine,” he lied. 

She drew closer to him, her fingers inches from the arm that leaned against the rail. “Are you sure? You seem a bit...off...lately.”

What if he told her the truth? What if he told her exactly what rampaged through his heart, threatening to flatten him into the earth. How her eyes on him reduced him to nothing. That he would be putty at her fingertips. 

She stepped ever so slightly closer, tipping her face up to him and searching his features. “What is it?”

How easy it would be simply bend his head and press his lips to hers. He was so tired. So tired of fighting against that ever present need. He would burn cities to ash, slay every monster that haunted his nightmares just for the taste of her lips.

Someone screamed, a splash echoing in its wake. Azriel jerked, thrust so hard back to his senses that he stumbled. 

“My daughter!” Someone shrieked. 

“She can’t swim!” Someone else, a female, screeched as they rushed to the bridge railing. 

Before Azriel could react, a streak of color burst past him. In one swift movement, a slim figure leapt up onto the railing and dove neatly into the rushing waters beneath. He heard Elain gasp from somewhere beside him.

And then, finally, he was moving. His body reacting to chaos surrounding him long before his addled mind. His wings thrust outward, eyes sharpened, focusing on the small blonde head bobbing haphazardly in the coursing waters. He could barely hear the screams of bystanders as they rushed to clear themselves from the great span of his wings. And with one powerful downward flap that had the muscles in his back screaming, he launched into the air. 

It was a child, their body thrown like a rag doll at the mercy of the current. But there was someone else in the water. A head of dark hair thrown back as they breached the surface of the water to latch onto the little girl. 

Azriel tucked in his wings, body spirally downward as he streamlined himself for an unrelenting descent. 

It was a female. She twisted them this way and that in the water, searching desperately for an anchor as they were carried farther and farther from the arch of the bridge. Azriel flung out his wings as he drew close to the water, gritting his teeth against the strain, and leveled out to glide over its frothing surface. The female disappeared under the water, pulled under for just a moment, but when she resurfaced she flung a hand up in the air, reaching blindly for him. Everything narrowed down to that dark hand, the wink of jewelry in the evening light. He could not miss. 

The scream of the female as he pulled them from the water was horrible. He could feel her body spasming as he pulled them up and drew them in against his chest as he banked hard towards shore. The tip of his wing brushed the water, and then they were tumbling onto cobblestone. 

The female moaned, rolling to her side and vomiting river water onto the path. “Is she breathing?” She wheezed. 

But Azriel was already at the child’s side, a finger at her pulse point. Heart plummeting to the pit of his stomach, he positioned the heels of his palms against her chest and began compressions. 

“Harless! There!” Someone called from the opposite bank. “Go! I’ll go around!”

Azriel closed his eyes, focusing on his count, then leaned down, sealing his mouth over the girls and breathed out. 

“Come on...” The female’s voice was weak, but familiarity rattled through Azriel’s head. 

Heavy footsteps came up behind him, but he did not stop, could not, despite the ache in his arms. 

“Not me, them,” the female commanded. 

“But-“

“I’m fine!” She snarled. 

And then there was a male opposite of him. “I can take the next set.”

“My gods!” A second female gasped from behind them. “Sia. Your shoulder.”

Azriel bent. Another breath. And then the male overtook the compressions. Azriel sat back on his heels, gasping, and finally took in the people around them. His whole body went rigid as his gaze settled on Aloisia. 

She was struggling into a sitting position with the help of a terrified brunette. Her face contorted in pain, one hand gripping her shoulder. The arm Azriel had grabbed onto hung awkwardly at her side. Tears mixed with the currents of water rushing from her sodden curls. She was incredibly pale. 

A wail broke the air and Azriel turned back to see the young child spasm. Harless gently turned her onto her side, allowing her to cough the water from her lungs in horrible, wrenching coughs. 

“Sia. Mother above. What were you thinking?” The brunette scolded, pulling her friend back to lean against her chest. 

Aloisia’s smile was weak as she allowed herself to be pulled into the circle of her arms. “That I’m a strong swimmer?”


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here. Maybe it was the trip to Illyria waiting for him in the morning or maybe it was the awful dinner he had been forced to suffer through the night before still leaving him feeling a bit raw. 

It was well after sunset and the Harlequin was in full swing. There was a male on the stage, eyes closed as he leaned hard into his ballad. He wasn’t bad. His voice was good and his range was decent, but he lacked something. He did not render that feeling in your gut the way Aloisia did. Did not make you feel as if your heart had been ripped from your body in the span of just a few bars. He searched for that familiar head of dark curls, the infectious smile, but remained fruitless as he approached the bar. He drew his thumb across his lips, thinking. It had been three days since the incident on the bridge. 

“Hey.”

Azriel turned his head towards the voice. To his side, opposite of the bar, was Harless. “Hey.”

“She’s not here.”

A hot wave of embarrassment overtook him. Of course she wasn’t. Of course he would make a fool of himself. 

“Oh. I wasn’t-”

“Sure you weren’t.” Harless leveled him with a knowing smirk as he set a glass on the bar top between them. “Drink?”

Azriel stared at it. He had not really planned to stay.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Harless chuckled, pulling it back and setting it behind the bar. 

“Look.” Azriel could not keep the bite of irritation from his tone. “All I wanted to do was see how she was fairing.”

“She’s been off all week. The shoulder was dislocated.”

Guilt dropped into the pit of his stomach like a rock. 

“Hey man.” Harless leaned his elbows on the bar top, “she made the choice to jump in the water. It’s not your fault you had to pull her out. You didn’t have a lot of options.”

Even still, it did little to make him feel better. “I don’t suppose she lives near here?” He hadn’t entirely realized he was going to ask the question until the words were falling from his lips and then there was nothing he could do to pull them back.

Harless paused, taking him in. Azriel knew the look on the bartender’s face. Had seen it countless times in interrogations. He knew the trick well. Use silence as a weapon. Make your adversary uncomfortable. Make them break the silence. For a moment, Azriel was concerned he would be stuck here all night, locked in a staring contest, but eventually the male caved and looked down.

“And what?” Harless pulled a glass from the sink behind the bar and dried it. You are expecting me, as a responsible friend, to give you, a male with a rather unsettling reputation, the address of my female friend. Who lives alone.”

The corner of Azriel’s mouth worked upward in a slanted smirk. “Maybe.” 

“Aren't you, like, the high lord’s spymaster? Isn’t it your job to know everything about everyone?”

_ I am breaking you, aren’t I? _ Azriel thought as he leaned against the bartop. “Contrary to what people seem to think, I do believe in privacy.” 

“Fine. But only because I know Aloisia could kick your ass. Even with one hand in a sling.” 

Azriel smirked. He couldn’t stop it. “What? Are you saying I do not have a trustworthy face?”

Harless chuckled, shaking his head and reaching for another glass.

* * *

Alright. So here he was. He had gotten what he wanted and now, twenty feet from his end goal, he had stalled. Her home was a quaint townhouse tucked between its neighboring residences. The brickwork was dark, but the door had been painted a vibrant coral. Before he had even glanced at the house number, he had known that it would be hers. 

She was only a few blocks from the bridge over the Sidra where they had met. It explained why they crossed paths there so often. But what now? What would she think of his dropping by unannounced to her home, which by all reasonable accounts, he should not have been able to locate.  _ Oh it was nothing. I just subtly interrogated your friend until he gave up all your secrets. _

A small part of him reared its head among his doubts. Maybe she would be happy to see him. Afterall, she had been the one to seek him out at the bar all those nights ago. It was her who had struck up their easy conversation and had saved him from a downward spiral after he had turned down Elain’s plea for a dance. Which brought forth the question, was he truly here to check in on her well being, or was he here because her presence soothed his distraught soul?

And that question, most of all, frightened him. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Azriel blinked and turned his head. Several feet down the sidewalk from him was the brunette who had dashed to Aloisia’s side the night of the river incident. Her pointed features were set in sharp irritation.

“Gods damn it all.” She bit out, and Azriel could not tell if the words were for him or herself. “I cannot stand it when he is right.”

She held a grocery bag in her arm, and she hiked it up further on her hip before flailing a hand at him. “In the house. Go. Before I strangle you too.”

Azriel blinked again and then looked towards the coral door. The brunette brushed past, undeterred by the fact that his tucked wings consumed most of the width of path up to the house. “Come on.”

Azriel slipped down the sidewalk, a shadow at the female’s heels as she pushed open the door to the townhouse and stepped inside. The entry hall was narrow, making Azriel feel larger than life as he hovered near the entry door. His shadows drifted outward, inspecting the small space. 

“Sia!” The brunette called as she kicked off her shoes and strode into the adjoining room. “You have company. Much to my distress.”

“Company?” He heard Sia ask. “What are you-” She stepped into the hall and paused. “Oh. Azriel.”

Azriel rocked back on his heels, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey.”

Her hair had been pulled back in rows of braids, the ends woven with orange that splashed color into the bun the ropes of hair had been wrapped into. Her arm was immobilized in a sling, and she adjusted it, offering him a smile.

“Are you going to hover by the door or are you going to come in and join us?” 

Azriel was quiet for a moment and looked down at her feet. He took a breath, settling himself. “Is this a shoes or no shoes household?”

She laughed, “We try to not make judgments here. However, if you come into the living room barefoot, all bets are off. Just saying.”

Azriel chuckled, toeing off his shoes. When he looked up, Aloisia had disappeared back into the living room. He stepped into the threshold as Aloisia lowered herself down onto the couch, grimacing lightly. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m alright. The shoulder is a bit sore, but much better than it has been. How are you?”

“I’m not the one with an arm in a sling.” Azriel pointed out as he drifted into the room. 

Paper crowded the walls, each sheet fighting for acreage on the lemon yellow surface. Endless sketches and paintings intermixed with notes scrawled in a messy script. He reached out to touch the crumpled corner of one sheet. Like so many others, a message was written across its surface.  _ Every day alive is a blessing counted. _

“A little bit of inspiration. For when my day is lacking luster,” Aloisia laughed, a light blush coloring her cheeks. 

“It’s hard to imagine you without luster,” Azriel commented absently.

The brunette had come back into the room with a steaming mug, and set it on the table nearest Aloisia. She scoffed. “Trust me. She ain’t always sunshine and rainbows.”

Aloisia quirked a brow, smirking. “You  _ ain’t always _ such a peach yourself, Eddie.”

Eddie laughed, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder as she turned back towards the kitchen. She gave Aloisia a pointed gaze as she passed, and Aloisia leveled her with a warning look in response. 

“There should be enough here for three if you would like to stay!” Eddie called as she strode into the kitchen. 

“Oh no. That’s alright. No need for me to be a burden.” Azriel said. “I just wanted to check in on Aloisia.”

“Oh it’s no bother. Really. Please! Stay. It’s the least we can do after pulling our dear Sia from the Sidra.”

Aloisia rolled her eyes, though her smile never faltered. “I would have been fine, Ed. Do not start scolding, again, me in front of our guest!” Then Aloisia turned her dark gaze back to Azriel. “Ignore her. Eddie tends to be a bit of a mother hen.”

Eddie leaned out from the doorway of the kitchen, ponytail swinging off her shoulder. “Well, if you wouldn’t insist on putting yourself in harm's way, I wouldn’t have to.”

“She has a point,” Azriel said.

Eddie pointed at him as if to say “Thank you!” and disappeared back into the kitchen. Aloisia stared at him, looking utterly betrayed.

“Whose side are you on Shadowsinger! I welcome you into my home and this is the thanks I get?”

Azriel chuckled, moving along the wall, deeper into the room. One section was almost entirely covered with scribbled sketches and messy paintings. 

“Daia likes to paint. We usually camp out somewhere downtown and paint the city when Mom is at work.”

Azriel reached out to touch one that he thought might resemble the bridge that he had stood on the night he had first met her. The brush strokes were messy and unskilled. He touched a blotch of color that had clearly dropped unintentionally on the page and then had been fruitlessly wiped away. “He is not bad for his age.”

Aloisia flinched, laughing. “That one is mine.”

Azriel couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from him. As their laughter fell away, they slipped into an easy silence. Aloisia simply watched him as inspected each of the other sketches. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, not able to look at her as he did so. 

“For what?” Aloisia asked. “Saving my life?”

Azriel smiled down at his fingers, flexing them. “I think you might have been well on your way to doing that yourself.”

“Maybe. I’m more of an ‘act first, grieve the consequences later’ kind of person,” she laughed. “I can’t say I recommend it for every situation.”

Azriel laughed. “I guess I find myself as a ‘scrutinize the hell out of all gathered intel, completely overthink the situation, and end up abandoning the game plan halfway through’ kind of person.”

“That’s incredibly specific.”

Azriel’s lips quirked into a smile. “It’s practically my trademark.”

She smiled softly at him. It made his heart ache and he rubbed absently at his breast bone. “What’s up, Az?”

_ Az.  _

“Nothing’s up,” He responded, busying himself by looking back over the paintings. 

“Something’s up. You are hovering like I might combust at any given moment and need to be able to make a break for it.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. Was his insecurity that blatantly obvious? Home many times in the last few nights he felt unable to sit still, like bugs crawled across his skin and movement was the only way to be rid of them. And yet...no one had commented.

“Come. Sit.” She patted the empty cushions beside her. 

“I…” He hesitated for just a moment then came to sit beside her. “I have to go somewhere tomorrow. For work. Somewhere I hate going.”

Just thinking about it now turned his insides in on themselves. 

“Ah,” she said softly. Her fingers twitched, ever slightly, as though she wished to reach out and soothe him with her touch. Their knees were only inches apart. “Well. When I have to do something I don’t want to do, I give myself something to look forward to after.”

Azriel nodded slowly. Good advice. But there wasn’t really much he looked forward to these days, and the thought left him feeling rather bleak. He swallowed. Is this what his life had come to? A gathering of odious events strung along by stretches of gray existence. 

“Like,” Aloisia said slowly, rolling her thumb over the edge of her sling. “Maybe whenever you get back, you should join my friends and I for a drink. It’s just a thing we do at the end of our shifts.” She shrugged her shoulder casually. “Nothing special. Just a nice way to unwind at the end of the day.”

When Azriel looked up at her, she wasn’t watching him. Instead, her eyes were carefully downcast, inspecting her sling. 

“Yeah. Maybe I will,” Azriel said, offering her a smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am happy to hear that you guys are enjoying to story so far! Here is another chapter for you. :)

Azriel signed a breath of relief as they stepped into the depths of Cassian’s cabin in the Illyrian mountains. A rush of snow skittered across their feet, slipping inside before Cassian closed the door and cut off the howling winds. He swore, though, that he could still hear the under-breath comments of the Illyrian warlord. The sneers of his men and their haughty laughter. It didn’t matter how much time or distance Azriel put between himself and his people. He would always be that worthless little boy, alone, forgotten in the endless dark.

“Ignore them. They are all bastards.” Cassian growled.

This place made him feel so terribly exhausted. He could never truly relax, always on guard, waiting for the next attack. Never sure if it would be by weapon or word. 

“I will never like this place.” 

Cassian sighed and popped the caps off two glass bottles and slid one across the tabletop to Azriel. “I am concerned about what the rising hostilities will mean in the future, though. They are still reeling from the losses during the war.”

“We all are.” Azriel said, thinking of Cress and Daia. Of Aloisia’s quiet words as she told him of their loss. 

“Yes.” Cassian nodded slowly. “But they weren’t entirely supportive of our side during the war. I think they are a bit resentful of us for the lives lost, that we twisted their arms, coerced them into giving aid. The cost was great. I mean I get it. They are hurting.”

Azriel knew his brother carried with him the guilt of the losses his units had suffered during the battle. No matter that he had been down in the dirt and the blood and the gore right alongside them, risking everything just as they were.

Azriel took a drink. “That resentment is driving a wedge in the Night Court.”

“Yes. And if what your spies say are true, we need to mend that bridge before this brews into a rebellion. Or worse, civil war.”

“Or,” Azriel took another drink, “Rhys could sweep in and strong arm them into submission.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

“Maybe,” Azriel smirked, “But I would enjoy watching it happen.”

Cassian laughed, sitting back. “I’ve missed this.”

“What?”

“Hanging out. Just the two of us.”

“We spent the entire day wiping Illyrian spit off our boots.”

“Come on. You know my charm is enough to make even that enjoyable.” Cassian smirked, “But seriously. You know what I mean. Everyone has been so busy lately. It’s nice to get some time together.”

“You have been busy. Rhys has been busy. I have been burying myself in work to _feel_ busy.” Azriel took another drink. _To feel like I’m contributing something. To feel less worthless and unimportant._

“Az…”

“Ya know, it wasn’t so bad when it was just Rhys. When Feyre came along and stole him from us, I still had you. But now…”

Azriel could feel Cassian tense, set on guard by the mention of his mate. 

“I will not be made to feel guilty for finding happiness. You know how long I have searched for it. What I had to endure to obtain it.”

“Oh yes. The noble and righteous man who has gentled the great and monstrous Nesta Archeron.” Azriel snarled, no longer able to stay still and rising up out of his seat. His skin felt too tight. His heart beating itself against its cage in a desperate attempt to be free of him. Maybe he would free it. He could simply rip apart his rib cage and fling it to the floor. Maybe then, this wouldn’t hurt so damned much. “But when I try to do the same for myself, I am made the victim.”

“Az.” His voice was painfully soft. Mournful. The pity of it made Azriel’s blood boil. “We’ve talked about this.”

He wheeled on Cassian. “We’ve not discussed it. Because you refuse to even speak of it.”

“She’s mated, brother.” Cassian set a broad hand over his stomach as though he too felt the weight of their impending argument settling there. “You understand what that means right? He is hers to defend.”

“That’s bullshit!” Azriel thrust out his hands, the tendrils of darkness around his fingers shaking loose and writhing across the room. “And ya know what. I just find that so damned funny. Because that’s against everything we feel is wrong in Illyria. It goes against all the things we are trying to fix for the women here. Does she not get a choice? Does she not get to choose which man she prefers?”

“And when she makes this choice, you think it will be you?” Cassian’s voice had dropped deathly low.

“She doesn’t love him, Cassian. You can see it. I can see it. Even Feyre sees it. Why else do you think she has to convince her sister to even give Lucien the time of day?” 

“No. She doesn’t love him. Not yet.” 

“Maybe not ever.” 

“Nesta wanted nothing to do with me in the beginning.” 

Azriel pulled back, making a face of disgust. “That’s different.” 

“How?” 

“She always loved you. Deep down. And you know it.” 

Cassian reached out his hand, but Azriel pulled his arm back before he could make contact. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” 

“She would never.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Cassian asked, hurt written bright as day across his face. “You know what I see when I look at that female? Anger. A pot just beginning to bubble, threatening to boil over. And when that volcano ruptures, I don't want you in the blast zone.” 

“That’s for me to decide.” 

“Az. I know what this is.” Cassian touched his hand to his chest. “I’ve been there. I get it. I’ve put myself out there and had my heart trampled for it.”

“You have no idea what it is like to be me.” Azriel hissed, drawing back and away from him. 

“Oh I do, brother.” Cassian snarled, stalking closer, not allowing his retreat. “You feel worthless. And undeserving. Less than the mud on your boots.”

Azriel flinched back from his words, their strike deep enough to kill. 

“I know because I spent centuries drowning myself in alcohol and sex, just to try to numb myself from all of it. So I wouldn’t feel it in every breath of every day. Sometimes I still do. Some of my worst days it feels like drowning. Like I’m so deep I can’t even see the surface.”

“But now you have Nesta. Someone to pull you out of the water and into the sunlight. What do I have?”

Cassian bared his teeth. “Don’t be bitter, Azriel. You know as well as anyone that I deserve this.”

“And yet you chastise me for wanting the same.”

“It’s-”

“It is _NOT_ different!” Azriel roared. The shadows swept up, consuming him, pulling him away from Cassian and away from the mountain cabin. “No. You know what. I’m done with this. I’m done with you. I can’t do this right now.”

* * *

He really needed to stop doing this. He wasn’t really even sure what time it was or if they would even be there. All he could feel was the bottomless ache in his chest. All he could think about was making it stop. He would do anything to make it stop.

He found them at the back of the dance floor near the bar, seated around a large round table. Her friends, one by one, paused in what they were doing to stare at him, wide eyed. Aloisia, whose hands were raised, accentuating whatever story she was trying to articulate to them, paused, straightening slightly as she noticed their change.

Her sling was gone. It had been a few days since he had last seen her, and clearly she was healing well.

“What?” He heard her ask, and then she turned.

When her eyes caught his dark silhouette, her entire face brightened.

“Az! How unexpected!” She leapt up and bounded towards him. Her curls had been piled up on the top of her head and captured in a bright patterned wrap, and they bounced joyously with her.

She grasped his hand and pulled him towards the table. He stared down for a moment at her dark fingers in his scarred ones. She never seemed to notice the roughness of his grasp, never hesitated at the mutilated skin. 

“Sit!” She exclaimed, grasping his shoulders and pushing him down into the chair she had just abandoned. She darted to the table beside theirs and ignored the protests as she snagged one of their chairs for herself and slid in beside Azriel, bumping aside a red headed female.

“Guys.” Aloisia flourished her hands in an all encompassing gesture that referenced the entirety of him. “This is Azriel.”

From around the table came a chorus of extended “oh’s”. The only face at the table Azriel recognized was Eddie. She brushed back a dark strand of hair and smiled at him. 

“I see now what Cress meant,” Azriel heard the red head whisper to Aloisia, who laughed and bumped shoulders with her.

“Oh stop,” Aloisia chided, before turning back to him. “So you are back! How was your trip?”

“It was…” Azriel thought of Cassian’s crestfallen face when he realized that Azriel was about to disappear. “It wasn’t the greatest.”

“Oh,” Her brows knitted together in concern, and she set a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” Azriel said quietly.

“Well, hello my beautiful wife.” Harless purred, appearing behind Eddie and setting his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly. She turned her face up to him, his smile softened slightly as he dropped his mouth to hers for a chaste kiss.

The exchange proffered an ache in Azriel’s chest, plucking at the fresh hurt inflicted there. He turned away, a hand pressed against the ache. Harless moved around the circle of table and offered Azriel a tall glass filled to the brim with liquid. 

“For the new guy. I poured it a little heavy handed. Hopefully it's not too strong.”

Azriel looked up at him and took the glass. The drink was bright blue and it fizzled against his lip as he took a drink. Then another. The burn of the liquor lit his senses immediately but he relished in it. 

“Alright,” Harless laughed, dropping down beside Eddie and slapping a hand down on the top of her thigh. “I’m impressed. New guy can throw ‘em back.”

“It’s been a rough day.”

“His name,” Aloisia said pointedly, “Is Azriel. And you know that.”

“You know what makes a bad day better?” Asked a curly haired male Azriel had not met before.

“Shots!” The table cheered, hands going up in a wave around the table.

Aloisa laughed beside him. “Guys behave yourselves. We are trying to _not_ scare him away.”

Azriel tipped back his drink and drained what was left. When he looked back at the several pairs of eyes watching him, his vision swam lightly. “Let’s do this.”

The night dissolved into a blur of drinks and laughter. His mouth was coated with the sticky sweetness of the colorful concoctions that Harless stirred, and he was incredibly aware of Aloisia’s hand on his knee as she bent forward, laughing as the curly haired male, whose name he had learned was Kevair, made a joke he didn’t even hear. And underneath the smell of the smoke and alcohol and warm bodies was her. Vanilla and citrus. 

He learned that Kevair was a member of the band that backed Aloisia on stage. As well the red headed female with an astonishing amount of freckles named Estelle and a male named Daryn who Azriel would have sworn was Illyrian based solely on his complexion if it wasn’t for his lack of wings.

While the drowning feeling that had threatened to consume him when he had first stepped out of the darkness and on to the damp pavement lingered, it hung back, only settling on the fringes of his consciousness. He could barely feel its tug as Estelle tried to coax him from his seat.

“Come on!” Estelle begged, her slim fingers barely even able to encircle his wrists. “Just one dance!”

Azriel laughed, pulling back. He had been tempted once, earlier in the night, to join them. Though he never had. Aloisia was electric on the dance floor. The movement of her body drew the attention of those around her like a moth to flame, but she barely seemed to notice. She had long ago closed her eyes, letting the music envelope her and guide the smooth motion of her limbs.

But the alcohol was beginning to sink its claws into him now. Each tug from Estelle felt like the rush of the ocean, tilting him this way and that. If he got up now, he knew he’d make a fool of himself.

Aloisia laughed from behind her, one arm raised as she bounced on the balls of her feet to the fast beat of the music. “Oh, save your energy, Stella. He doesn’t dance.” Her dark eyes caught Azriel’s and she grinned. He felt himself smile back.

Estelle dropped his hand and settled her fists on her hips. “Really? He looks like a man who could _move.”_

“Don’t take it personally, Stella. He’s just worried he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself,” Aloisia said, throwing him a coy grin, before drawing her friend back into the depths of the floor, disappearing almost instantly amongst the sea of bodies.


End file.
